


Frostbite

by galacticsugar



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Friends to Lovers, M/M, Roommates, Slight Angst?, Slight pining?, Swearing, ashton has a short fuse, but really just fluff, chicken tikka masala slander, extremely minor implied sexual content, luke is that tumblr post that's like not to be horny but cuddle me or whatever, luke's kind of devious but it's cute i promise, oh yes they were roommates, there's a dog, these tags have really gotten away from me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-16 03:00:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28824108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galacticsugar/pseuds/galacticsugar
Summary: He figures it out by accident.It’s a cold, rainy morning and Luke just does not feel like dragging the trash out to the apartment dumpster. He knows he should take it out, because Ashton’s coming back today and Luke made chicken tikka masala for dinner the night before and he can smell the remnants in the trash from 50 feet away. Ashton hates the smell of chicken tikka masala.***Luke and Ashton are roommates, and Luke discovers a creative way to smooth over arguments with Ashton.
Relationships: Luke Hemmings/Ashton Irwin
Comments: 10
Kudos: 46





	Frostbite

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I've been wanting to take a stab at prompts for a while but hadn't quite worked up the bravery, but a kind anon on tumblr sent me a prompt and I thought WHY THE HECK NOT. 
> 
> This is based on the prompt “When Luke and Ashton argue, Luke would turn the thermostat down so Ashton ends up cuddling with him for warmth or vice versa." 
> 
> I am apparently incapable of writing something less than 3k but I tried to to keep this one under control and I'm posting it before I can start rereading and obsessing about it.
> 
> Come find me screaming about Luke in my tags on tumblr [@staticsounds](https://staticsounds.tumblr.com/).

He figures it out by accident.

It’s a cold, rainy morning and Luke just does _not_ feel like dragging the trash out to the apartment dumpster. He knows he should take it out, because Ashton’s coming back today and Luke made chicken tikka masala for dinner the night before and he can smell the remnants in the trash from 50 feet away. Ashton _hates_ the smell of chicken tikka masala. He says it makes him feel like he’s suffocating and he makes a big show out of opening the windows and flapping his hands dramatically to rid the apartment of the smell every time Luke cooks it.

Luke doesn’t want to make Ashton upset. There’s actually very little he hates more than making Ashton upset, because when Ashton’s upset there’s an uncomfortable fog hanging over the entire apartment. His bad mood permeates every room, seeping through the walls and hovering menacingly in the air, even when Luke’s shut behind his bedroom door. That’s just how it is with Ashton – his mood is contagious, for better or for worse. Plus, Luke really likes Ashton (maybe a little too much), and he doesn’t ever want to be the cause of Ashton’s foul mood.

It’s basically a hurricane outside at this point. The wind is violently whipping tree branches against the living room window and the rain is coming down so hard it sounds like bullets on the roof. Surely Ashton will not hold it against Luke if he doesn’t take the trash out in _this_. He could get struck by lightning and die. Yeah, this is a solid excuse. Not even an excuse. A responsible decision by a mature adult who is concerned about his safety. Luke snuggles back under his blanket on the sofa and returns his attention to the TV, letting his guilt about not taking out the trash slip away.

A couple hours later, Ashton comes home, dropping his backpack on the floor by the front door and shaking out his hair like a wet dog. It lands haphazardly on his head, damp tendrils curling against his forehead and his cheeks. It’s still raining steadily outside, and Luke hasn’t budged from his nest on the sofa. He lazily lifts a hand in greeting. “Hey, Ash. How was home?”

Ashton bends down to unlace his boots. Luke is suddenly very distracted from his TV show. It’s not his fault Ashton is nice to look at. “Good,” Ashton replies cheerfully. “Driving back here was hell though. I couldn’t see anything in the rain.”

He straightens, shrugging out of his wet hoodie and hanging it on the coat tree next to the door. He pauses suddenly, nose in the air and eyes squinting. Shit. Luke quickly looks back at the TV. “Do I smell chicken tikka masala?” Ashton’s using his dad voice and it automatically makes Luke shrink in on himself.

“Probably.” Luke keeps his voice neutral. Casual. “I made it for dinner last night.”

“Then why do I still smell it today?” Ashton asks, walking toward the kitchen.

Luke’s brain conducts a quick debate on whether it’s better to tell Ashton about the trash or let him find it himself. The verdict is inconclusive, and by the time Luke’s had a chance to think through it, Ashton is already hovering over the trash can. “Seriously, Luke? The trash is overflowing and smells like ass. You couldn’t have taken this out?”

Luke chews at his bottom lip, chest and cheeks heating. He hates confrontation. But he’s also extremely stubborn, and he thinks Ashton’s being a little unreasonable here. “I was going to, but in case you hadn’t noticed, Armageddon is happening outside.”

There’s a _thud_ in the kitchen as Ashton yanks the trash bag out of the can and lets the lid slam closed. He glares at Luke as he stomps back to the front door. “It’s just a little rain.”

Luke rolls his eyes and sighs. “And it’s just a little chicken tikka masala.”

There’s some indistinct mumbling as Ashton slides his feet back into his boots and tugs on his hoodie. “Are you seriously taking that out right now?” Luke protests. “It’s still raining. I’ll do it later.”

“I can’t deal with this smell for another second,” Ashton shoots back, hoisting the trash bag over his shoulder and letting the front door slam shut behind him as he leaves.

Luke feels bad, but is the lingering smell of chicken tikka masala really something to be _this_ upset about?

When Ashton comes back, Luke pretends he’s still watching TV, but his attention is on Ashton, trying to gauge his mood. He’s frowning as he rips off his boots and hoodie, and he swears under his breath when he accidentally knocks into the coat rack with his backpack when he swipes it off the floor. So. Not great.

“Have any clothes you need washed?” Luke asks, trying to soothe Ashton’s mood. “I’m doing a load of laundry this afternoon.”

“I’ll do my own laundry, Luke,” Ashton bites back at him. “Not sure I trust you with it since you apparently don’t even know how to take out the trash.”

“What the fuck, Ash?” Luke sits up, eyes fiery, ready to defend himself. “I’m sorry, okay? I told you I’d take it out when the rain stopped. It’s not like the smell of chicken tikka masala was going to kill you.”

Ashton _growls_ at Luke and waves a hand at him dismissively. “Whatever. I’m just tired of constantly being subjected to your stinky food even though you know I hate it. Who the fuck eats chicken tikka masala this often?”

“Do you want me to quit making it?” Luke yells, frustrated. Because he would, for Ashton. “If you do, just _tell me_.”

“I don’t want to tell you what to do!” Ashton’s yelling now too.

“I don’t want to make you upset, but I don’t know if you don’t tell me!” Luke’s voice raises in frustration, and Ashton seems to sense this argument is going nowhere.

He sighs, lets his shoulders drop from where they were tense around his ears. “It doesn’t matter. I’m going to go unpack.”

Luke hears Ashton’s bedroom door shut. End of conversation. Sure enough, Ashton leaves the cloud of his nasty mood in his wake. It takes Luke a few minutes to recover from the argument. While he still fully believes it’s a ridiculous thing for Ashton to be bent out of shape over, he hates that Ashton is angry with him.

Being in Ashton’s good graces is like a drug for Luke. Ashton builds him up, compliments him, makes him feel like he’s important. Being on the receiving end of one of Ashton’s smiles is a privilege, and making Ashton laugh – whether it’s the bright, musical giggle or the sly chuckle – feels like an accomplishment. Luke swells with pride every time he manages to pull that laugh out of Ashton.

It’s been like this since the beginning. They had been randomly assigned as roommates in the dorms freshman year, and from day one Luke was in awe of Ashton. He has a special way about him, where he knows exactly how to make the person he’s talking to feel like the only person in the world. He’s free with his contagious smiles and he remembers everyone’s names.

Needless to say, he makes friends easily, and Luke just awkwardly leeches off of Ashton’s charisma. Not a day goes by Luke’s not shocked that Ashton still chooses to live with him, out of all his many much more interesting friends. He has no idea what Ashton’s getting out of this roommate situation, other than Luke’s stinky trash.

Most nights they hang out and watch TV together, or maybe watch a movie they’ve both already seen at least seven times so they can talk through it. Luke figures tonight Ashton will probably stay in his room and pout, which is disappointing. He could have used some of Ashton’s light to brighten the gloomy day.

The temperature outside keeps dropping, the steady drizzle turning into light flurries as the sun goes down. Luke’s trembling on the sofa under his blanket, and he considers getting up to turn on the heat, but the threat of the cold laminate flooring under his bare feet keeps him rooted in place. He hears the low creaking sound of Ashton’s bedroom door opening and looks toward the hallway. Ashton emerges wrapped in a red comforter, a sour expression on his face. Luke holds back a sigh. He doesn’t want to deal with Ashton snipping at him again.

“It’s really fucking cold in here,” Ashton says, an edge in his voice.

“Yup. It’s snowing out.” Luke keeps his tone carefully neutral. He doesn’t want to scare Ashton away or accidentally get him riled back up.

“Really?” Ashton’s voice perks up a little and he steps into the living room to get a better look out the front window.

“Yeah. Just started a few minutes ago.”

Ashton just hums in response, still hovering awkwardly near the hallway. Luke keeps his eyes steady on the television, pointedly ignoring Ashton. Maybe it’s petty, but he’s kind of hoping for an apology. Eventually, Ashton makes his way over to the sofa and sits down near Luke. He’s tense, perched right on the edge, and he’s deliberately quiet. Luke smiles to himself, relaxing back into the sofa cushion but watching Ashton out of the corner of his eye.

Sure, it’s really fucking annoying when Ashton’s mad at him for no good reason, but there’s this in-between moment that Luke actually really likes. It’s when Ashton’s still a little upset with him, but he doesn’t _want_ to be, and his hard exterior starts to crack just a tiny bit to let Luke back in slowly but surely. Luke supposes he likes it because it’s the first sign that things are going to be okay again, that he’ll be forgiven. But there’s another reason, one he’s only recently noticed, and it’s really fucking with his head.

Ashton’s almost always talking or moving or doing, but in this in between time, he’s quiet and moody. Luke can watch him, uninterrupted, Ashton’s forehead creased in a frown, mouth pushed into a slight pout, and let himself daydream about smoothing Ashton’s frown with his thumbs and kissing the pout off his face. He tries not to let his daydreams go any further than that, and most of the time he succeeds. It’s getting harder, though.

Ashton makes a sound of distress that rips Luke from his thoughts. Luke looks at him questioningly. “I know I’m not your favorite person right now,” Ashton says through a violent shiver. “But I’m really cold.”

Luke’s face twists in confusion. “And?”

Ashton sighs, exasperated, and flops back heavily on the sofa. “This is the only blanket I have.” He flaps the corner of his comforter at Luke, causing Luke’s hair to rustle in the breeze.

“So?” Luke bites at the inside of his lip so he doesn’t smile. He could just tell Ashton to go turn up the thermostat, but this seems like it will be more fun. He’s still going to make Ashton work for it though.

“Can we share?” Ashton’s voice is flat, devoid of any emotion, and Luke almost laughs at the ridiculousness of Ashton trying to keep up his angry façade while asking to share his blanket.

Luke lifts the edge of his own blanket, an invitation for Ashton to slide closer. Ashton unwraps the comforter from around his shoulders and shakes it out to place on top of Luke’s fleece blanket, then scoots over so he is shoulder-to-shoulder with Luke. He fusses around for a bit, tucking the edge of the blankets under his body to seal him off completely from the cold air. Luke giggles a little as he watches, and Ashton gives him a dirty look in return.

They turn their attention back to the TV, but after a few minutes, Luke feels the sofa dip as Ashton shifts closer to him, nudging into his side. Luke looks over at him, and he’s still pouting, still looks like he would rather be anywhere else in the world even as he determinedly angles his body into Luke’s side, attaching himself to Luke’s arm like a koala and sliding his curled-up legs over Luke’s thigh. He drops his head onto Luke’s shoulder, messy hair tickling Luke’s jaw.

This is a _very interesting_ development. Ashton’s not normally an especially touchy person. Not like Luke, who only knows how to show people he cares about them by suffocating them with hugs and cuddles. Ashton’s normal response to Luke’s touchy-feely nature is feeble protest. He lets Luke hug him or pat his shoulder briefly, just long enough to indulge Luke, then he pulls away with a whine.

But tonight, Ashton’s body stays pressed beside Luke’s, and his breath ghosts against Luke’s neck, giving Luke goosebumps. He shivers a little, and Ashton’s head tilts to look up at him, eyes assessing. Luke gives him a small smile, plays it off like he’s just reacting to the cold air of the apartment. Ashton’s face softens, and suddenly his arm is across Luke’s torso, heavy and grounding.

After taking a second to be sure Ashton’s going to stay put, Luke wastes no time setting his own arm on top of Ashton’s, basking in the rare opportunity to touch him freely. Ashton lets out a little grunt, which Luke interprets as a very lazy attempt at acting like somehow this little snuggle is something he’s putting up with for Luke’s benefit. Luke’s not bothered, though. Ashton can pretend all he wants, stubbornly refusing to acknowledge he’s the whole reason they’re wrapped up in each other.

It doesn’t matter how they got there. All that matters is that Ashton is wrapped in Luke’s warmth, allowing Luke to give and take love the only way he knows how.

***

It’s like Luke has uncovered a cheat code for Ashton; a foolproof method of beating the levels where Ashton is upset with him.

A few nights later, Luke eats the last of Ashton’s peanut butter. He didn’t mean for it to happen. He was sure he had some of his own, and he’d already slathered jelly on a slice of bread when he realized he was out. It’s not like he could just stop making his sandwich halfway through. So he takes Ashton’s jar of peanut butter, cringes when he realizes he’s scraping the bottom of the jar, and makes a mental note to go to the store in the morning to get a replacement.

Of course, it also happens to be the _one_ night Ashton doesn’t pick up takeout on his way home from work at the university library. He comes home in a foul mood already because he’s starving, and Ashton with low blood sugar is barely Ashton at all. When he sees the empty peanut butter jar in the trash he seethes silently for a long moment before glaring at Luke. “Did you eat my peanut butter, Luke?”

Luke pauses his video game and looks at Ashton beseechingly. “I’m sorry. I thought I had some of my own but I didn’t. I was going to get you a new jar tomorrow.”

Ashton sighs deeply. “I haven’t been to the store in weeks. That was all I had to eat.” Luke can hear him trying his hardest to keep his voice calm and steady.

“Oh. I didn’t know that.”

“You could have asked.” Ashton’s voice pitches higher, some of his frustration leaking into his words.

Luke should let it be, just apologize again, but since when has he ever let things be when he should? “You were at work,” he says defensively.

His response earns a deep sigh from Ashton, who starts aggressively opening every cabinet in the kitchen and slamming it shut when he doesn’t find anything worth eating. Finally he flings the pantry door open and grabs a protein bar, accidentally pulling the whole box off the shelf an onto the floor. He swears loudly as he gathers the scattered protein bars and stuffs them back in the box and onto the pantry shelf. Then he’s off to his room in a huff, pausing only to narrow his eyes at Luke menacingly as he crosses into the hallway.

Luke waits a while before deploying his new technique. Long enough for Ashton to eat his protein bar and change out of his work clothes, at which point he would normally emerge from his room to hang out with Luke for the evening. When half an hour passes with no sign of Ashton, Luke slides off the couch and quietly pads over to the thermostat. He peeks around the corner, making sure Ashton’s door is closed. Satisfied he’s not being watched, he ticks the temperature down a few degrees, turns to leave, thinks better of it, and pivots back to lower the temperature a few more degrees. He nods to himself, satisfied, and tiptoes back to the couch quietly.

At first, he thinks it hasn’t worked. He can feel the apartment getting colder, and he bundles himself under his fleece blanket, but he hasn’t heard a peep from Ashton. But then, just as Luke is about to give up hope, he hears the telltale creak of Ashton’s door opening. He smiles to himself, but quickly drops the smile as Ashton walks into the living room, not wanting to give himself away.

“Cold again tonight,” Ashton says.

Luke nods and tries to make himself look as warm and cuddly as possible under his fleece. “Yup.”

Ashton sighs as he speaks, like it’s painful for him to form the words. “Do you think we could share blankets again.” He can’t even be bothered to put any inflection on his tone. God, it’s actually kind of hilarious how stubborn he is, but Luke doesn’t dare laugh at him.

“Sure,” Luke says, a little thrill zipping up his spine. It worked! He is a _fucking genius_.

This time, Ashton clings to Luke’s side immediately, and lets out a contented sigh once he’s comfortably settled. He tries to cover it with a cough, but Luke knows better.

There’s a little stab of guilt in Luke’s chest, though. It’s probably not fair of him to manipulate Ashton into cuddling with him. His intent is just to soften the edges of Ashton’s anger and smooth over their argument, but he can’t pretend he doesn’t also savor the chance to feel Ashton’s body against his.

***

The guilt isn’t enough to stop him. Luke keeps using the thermostat trick, and it works every time. Once you’ve played the game with the cheat code, it’s really hard to go back and play the fair way.

***

Luke _knows_ Ashton’s going to be angry. They’ve talked about getting a dog before, and it’s always the same. Luke begs and pleads and tries to win Ashton over with pictures of cute puppies on Instagram. Ashton shakes his head and tells Luke a dog is too much work for a couple of college students, no matter how cute it might be.

But during Luke’s shift volunteering at the animal shelter, he overhears the ladies at reception making a big fuss about Biscuit, an adorable cockapoo that was just dropped off. It’s rare for them to get fluffy little designer dogs at the shelter, but Biscuit is older and doesn’t see well. Because of her special needs, she can’t safely stay at the shelter – they need to find her a foster home.

It wouldn’t be hard to find someone to volunteer to take in sweet little Biscuit, but Luke doesn’t give anyone else a chance. He loves her the moment he sets eyes on her wavy gold fur and huge brown eyes, and he immediately agrees to take Biscuit home with him until the shelter can find someone to adopt her permanently.

He doesn’t ask Ashton. Luke tells himself that Ashton won’t mind having a dog around if it’s just a temporary situation, but he knows he’s lying to himself. Ashton’s already home when Luke gets back to the apartment, and he’s caught the second he walks in the door with Biscuit trailing behind him on a leash, collar jingling.

Ashton’s at the dining room table, tapping away at his laptop. He raises his eyebrows when he spots Biscuit. He knows Luke’s coming home from the shelter, and he’s not stupid. His brain is already connecting the dots. “Who’s this?”

“Biscuit,” Luke says quietly, unhooking Biscuit from her leash to let her start sniffing and exploring.

“Huh.” Ashton watches Biscuit slowly tiptoe down the hallway, wet nose occasionally bumping into the wall as she tries to find her way with her poor eyesight. “Why’s Biscuit running into the wall?”

Luke finally gathers the courage to look Ashton in the eye. “She’s basically blind.”

Ashton nods, and there’s something vaguely manic in his eyes. He’s calm in this moment, but Luke can see the anger brewing. “And why is…she…at our apartment?”

“She needed a foster home for a couple of weeks because of her special needs.” Luke busies himself unpacking Biscuit’s bowls and filling them up with food and water.

Ashton keeps his eyes on Biscuit, who has made her way over to him and is nosing at his shins curiously, head knocking gently into the legs of Ashton’s chair.

“No one else could take her?”

Luke doesn’t want to lie, so he just shrugs. “It’s only temporary.” There’s a soft thud as Biscuit accidentally bumps her head on the side of the table leg. Luke squats down next to her and pets her head reassuringly.

“I’m not going to make a big deal out of this, because I don’t want to be the bad guy who turned away a blind dog,” Ashton says, a warning in his voice. “But you better fucking deal with her on your own. I don’t have the time or energy for this.” He slaps his hands against his thighs for emphasis and snaps his laptop shut, stomping off to his room. “I’ll be in here for the next two weeks,” he yells back at Luke before slamming his bedroom door closed.

Biscuit startles at the sound, eyes wide with alarm. “It’s okay, Biscuit,” Luke whispers soothingly, scratching behind her ears. “Don’t worry about nasty Ashton. I’ll take good care of you.” Biscuit drops her head into Luke’s hand and he melts a little bit. It’s worth having Ashton angry at him for two weeks.

After they’ve both had dinner, Luke helps Biscuit onto the sofa and lets her curl up next to him as he flips through Netflix. Biscuit, extra sensitive to sound, pops her head up when she hears the heater click on with a menacing _whoosh_. “Oh!” Luke says out loud, suddenly remembering his Ashton cheat code. He hasn’t had to use it in a while, and he’s not sure it will work this time – Ashton’s pretty fucking angry with him, for good reason – but it doesn’t hurt to try, right?

He slowly gets up, careful not to upset Biscuit, and crosses the room to lower the thermostat. When he gets back to the sofa, he lays across it, Biscuit at his feet, fleece blanket wrapped around him like a burrito. If this ploy actually works again, he’s going to take full advantage of it.

He’s so absorbed in his show he doesn’t notice the creak of Ashton’s door. Luke jolts at the sound of Ashton’s long-suffering sigh and twists his head uncomfortably to look up at him.

Ashton stares back, resigned. “Blanket?”

FUCK YES. Luke can’t even believe it. “Only if you promise not to kick Biscuit off the sofa.” He cringes as soon as the words leave his mouth. He probably shouldn’t have mentioned Biscuit. He’s going to get Ashton riled up again and scare him off.

But Ashton just looks at Biscuit, curled in a ball next to Luke’s feet, and smiles gently. “Deal.”

Luke scoots his hips as far back as he can to make room for Ashton to lie down in front of him. For a second he thinks maybe he pushed it too far. Ashton hesitates as he approaches the sofa, eyes scanning the small empty space in front of Luke’s body. Luke starts to lift himself up, ready to readjust to their normal cuddle configuration, but then Ashton’s flopping down in front of him, intentionally jostling the sofa as much as possible. Luke shakes his head, biting back a smile, and lays quiet and still as Ashton fits himself against Luke.

The sofa isn’t small, but neither are they, and it’s a tight squeeze. Luke can feel Ashton’s back pressed against the full length of his torso. He reaches around Ashton’s waist to help him tuck the blankets in under him, but it’s really just an excuse for Luke to leave his arm draped over Ashton.

They lay like that for a while, Ashton watching Netflix and Luke pretending to watch Netflix while he tries very hard not to get a boner. Look, he’s a man with an ass pressed against his dick. It’s bound to happen. He really didn’t think this one through, too eager to have Ashton close to think about the potentially awkward consequences.

“I’m sorry.” Ashton’s voice is soft and Luke isn’t sure heard right. He hopes Ashton’s not asking him something about the show because Luke has no goddamn idea what’s been happening on the TV screen for the past twenty minutes.

“Hmm?” Luke lightly brushes Ashton’s hair back from his face and Ashton leans into it. Luke chuckles to himself. “You’re just like Biscuit.”

Ashton turns his head to look at Luke, but his skull is still pressed into Luke’s hand. “I said I’m sorry. And what do you mean I’m just like Biscuit?”

“You both like getting pets,” Luke says, scratching his fingers over Ashton’s scalp for emphasis. Ashton closes his eyes and stifles a moan. This is really not helping Luke’s _situation_. He abruptly stills his fingers. “What are you sorry for?”

“For being a dick about Biscuit,” Ashton says, opening his eyes slowly. “And about the peanut butter, and the stinky trash.”

Luke shrugs. “It’s fine. You had good reason to be upset.”

“I didn’t have to be such a dick about everything, though,” Ashton reiterates. “I’ve just been…stressed lately. And I took it out on you. You didn’t deserve that.”

“Maybe I did,” Luke says, figuring he may as well come clean. His cheat code isn’t going to work forever – a few months at most, then it will get hot and sticky outside and Ashton won’t have any need for Luke and his fleece blanket. And it will make Ashton feel better to know he’s not the only one who’s been a less-than-perfect roommate lately, which is all Luke really wants.

“What do you mean?”

Where to even begin. “Um. It’s a whole thing, but basically I’ve been turning down the thermostat every time you get mad at me and hide in your room.”

Ashton’s forehead wrinkles in a confused frown. “Why? What does that have to do with anything?”

“Because you’d come out and cuddle with me when you got cold.” As he speaks, Luke realizes he’s not just coming clean about manipulating Ashton; he’s also potentially coming clean about his crush on him too. “And then you wouldn’t be angry with me anymore,” he adds quickly, hoping Ashton won’t catch on to the implications of his earlier words.

It’s quiet for a moment, and Luke braces himself for Ashton’s response. He feels Ashton’s shoulders shaking, and then he hears it – the giggle. Luke wasn’t expecting the giggle. Luke _loves_ the giggle. It’s the one sound in the world he can hear and automatically know that everything will be all right. “Why are you laughing?” He pokes at Ashton’s hip impatiently.

“Do you know how many blankets I have piled in the back of my closet?” Ashton asks, stifling another round of giggles.

“You said you just have one.”

“I lied.” He’s smug, smiling proudly up at Luke.

“Wait.” Luke’s mouth opens and closes a few times, no words coming out.

Ashton grabs at Luke’s arm greedily and wraps it around his shoulders, pressing Luke’s hand to his chest.

“Do you mean…” Luke’s still trying to figure out the right question to ask to untangle the mess of information in his brain.

Ashton locks eyes with him and deliberately grinds his ass on Luke, and Luke's hips jerk in automatic response. There's a smirk on Ashton's face. “I mean I’ll be happy to help you with –” he cuts his eyes toward Luke’s hips “– _that_ after the show is over.”

Luke’s eyes widen in shock. Ashton has already turned his head back to the TV, cool as a cucumber. Luke’s catching up. Now he knows what game they’re playing. “You don’t think that’s moving a little fast?” Luke whispers in Ashton’s ear, pleased when it pulls a shiver from him.

“We’ve been living together for two years, Luke.” Ashton mumbles breathily.

“But we weren’t…we were just roommates.”

“That’s what they all say,” Ashton replies, bringing Luke’s hand from his chest to his mouth and gently kissing Luke’s wrist.

“Hmm. Does this mean I can just ask you to cuddle with me whenever I want instead of turning down the thermostat?”

“Nah, it’s kind of fun this way. Plus we’ve been saving a ton on our heating bill.” Ashton says it with a straight face, a thoughtful pout on his lips. Luke sees his opportunity and he doesn’t hesitate. He leans down and kisses the pout off Ashton’s lips, shocking a laugh out of him. Ashton gives Luke a teasing glare. “Just so you know, this would have been over right this second if you’d had chicken tikka masala for dinner.”


End file.
